


Dot To Dot

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gay Bar, Human!Connor, M/M, Openly Gay Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: Connor Stern has a reputation for convincing men to buy him drinks at a bar, and Hank Anderson knows it. Even if he knows he doesn't have a chance, he buys him his favorite drink anyway, and finds out there's a lot more to Connor than meets the eye.





	Dot To Dot

Connor Stern had quite the reputation. He had to, because having only come to this bar a few times, Hank was already well aware of it. It should have been a sign for him to stay away, but how could he resist? Those big brown eyes … Hank was a sucker to them. Connor even had a freckle in his ear. In his  _ ear!  _ What the hell was Hank supposed to do with information like that?

And yeah, Connor’s ability to get a steady stream of free drinks from older men simply by giving them that  _ look _ , a soft wink, wasn’t lost on Hank. He knew Connor wouldn’t be interested in him beyond the drink he bought him, but that didn’t stop him from buying it anyway. He was certain he wasn’t Connor’s type but it didn’t matter. That wasn’t why he’d bought the drink. The thought that Connor would ever go home with him was some kind of pipe dream he wouldn’t let himself buy into. As he ordered, “and one for the kid, whatever he likes to drink,” as he nodded Connor’s direction, he knew it was useless. He convinced himself it wasn’t to get Connor in bed anyway. It was just to help the kid keep having a good time. That’s what a night out like this was for, and besides, it made Hank feel better to know  _ someone  _ was enjoying himself, even if he personally wasn’t.

Hank didn’t even know why he was here again. Sad sack of shit like him, sitting in a bar filled with pretty young things like Connor? It was stupid and he knew it. His boss had been telling him to loosen up lately, to do some things outside of work instead of stressing about every case until he’d overwhelmed himself, and everyone at Jimmy’s bar had been telling him he needed to broaden his horizons. He knew he was there too much when Jimmy himself was saying it. That’s how he found himself here, in a gay bar for the third time that month. He didn’t even know why he bothered. The room was filled with guys like Connor: young, thin, beautiful … the dictionary definitions of twinks. None lit up the room like Connor did, and none of the others seemed to get as much attention or as many drinks. Or maybe it was just because he had Hank’s full attention that made it seem that way, but anyway, Hank knew he didn’t have a shot with him when he ordered the bright blue cocktail.

Hank tried to turn his eyes away when the bartender passed the drink to Connor and pointed Hank out, but he didn’t turn fast enough to escape the stare of those big brown eyes, the smirk on Connor’s face, or the slight tilt of his head as he raised his glass toward Hank. Had Hank even truly tried to take his eyes off of him? He wasn’t sure. He thought he had, but he felt like he was still staring even as Connor’s lips found the edge of the glass. Finally, he pried his eyes away from Connor and returned them to his own drink, the same intoxicating bright blue color. It wasn’t even the kind of drink he usually ordered. He only got it because for a moment, he wanted to know what Connor’s usual drink tasted like. Hell, he wanted to know what Connor’s lips tasted like, and this was the closest he’d ever get to finding out.

Hank was old and washed up, someone who could loosely be described as a bear, at least in demeanor if his appearance wasn’t a perfect fit (Hank figured “bear” probably still referred to someone far more attractive and younger than he was). There was no way in hell Connor would actually be attracted to him. He’d be lucky if Connor so much as spoke to him. That’s why he damn near jumped out of his seat when he felt fingers graze his shoulder and the hint of breath on his ear as Connor breathed out, “thanks for the drink. Come dance with me?”

Hank felt absolutely certain it was just Connor being polite. It certainly wasn’t indicative of any kind of interest on Connor’s part, but either way, there they were with Connor’s small, slender waist in Hank’s large hands as he held the boy steady. Connor was clearly a little past tipsy but he wasn’t too wasted for it to feel all wrong.

“You’re handsome,” Connor said directly into Hank’s ear, standing on his tip-toes to reach, making sure he was heard over the loud vibrations of the bass in the bar.

“I think you’ve had one too many drinks to have any sense about you,” Hank answered him. Maybe Connor was more drunk than Hank thought, too drunk for Hank to keep flirting with him.

“I know what I’m saying,” Connor said, smiling. “You’re handsome. Don’t dismiss yourself, handsome.”

“You say that word much more and it’ll lose all meaning,” Hank grumbled. “Then again, you said it about me. Maybe it already  _ has  _ lost all meaning. Need another drink?”

“If I accept, you’ll blame me saying nice things on the drinks,” Connor answered. “Then you won’t believe I mean them. And trust me, I mean them.” Hank couldn’t believe he did even without the extra alcohol, but the feeling of Connor’s lips grazing his ear once more were sending him over the edge. He was half-tempted to beg Connor to follow him to the bathroom right then and there, to lift that tiny twink as up against the wall and pound him into oblivion. Hank couldn’t do that, though. Not when Connor was so beautiful and, reputation be damned, seemingly virginal and perfect. “Hank,” Connor whimpered, thrusting his hips forward to grind against Hank’s thigh as if reading his mind, “you’re so fun to dance with.”

Connor had barely asked his name ten minutes before and now he was damn near moaning it in the club, leaving Hank’s head spinning. “Jesus, Con,” Hank choked out. He couldn’t even finish the words for the way Connor’s lips were on his neck, already sucking like he wanted to leave some physical evidence he’d been there.  _ Connor was here.  _ Hank would let him. Hank would have let the kid do damn near anything to him even if he knew better.

He was certain Connor would sober up and regret ever having danced with him. Hank wasn’t exactly a catch. But he was good for a few free drinks, and he knew he wasn’t good for much more. He was sure as hell certain Connor knew it, too. Still, with the way Connor kept grinding on him, he couldn’t resist trailing his hands down Connor’s exposed waist to his ass, which was all-too-accessible in the skin-tight short shorts he wore. He wasn’t taking the kid home, but he could certainly feel him up if Connor was going to press against him like that. Connor whimpered in his ear and pressed against him again. It was probably just the friction, but those shorts didn’t hide Connor’s desire. Without thinking much, Hank picked Connor up, letting Connor wrap his legs around him, and carried him to a booth in the corner that seemed mercifully vacant. As he dropped Connor onto the booth, letting Connor sink onto it on his knees as Hank stood in front of him, Hank sighed. “You’re dangerous.” It was the damn ear freckle, and the other ones dotting his pale neck, Hank decided. Hank kissed one, then the next one, then one more down his neck. Not the way Connor had sucked at his skin, no, but soft, fluttering brushes of his lips on Connor’s neck.

“You’re the one kissing me like that,” Connor said. “I think you’re dangerous, Hank … Hank …”

“Anderson,” Hank answered him, pulling his lips away from Connor’s skin just long enough to say it before replacing it on Connor’s collar bone with a slight drag of his tongue.

“Can I go home with you,  _ Mr.  _ Anderson?” Connor purred, emphasizing the word carefully for no real reason, but it still sent shivers down Hank’s spine.

“You’d regret it in the morning.” Hank dismissed him softly. “Everybody does once they sober up.” He said it like he’d brought more than a handful of people home, when in reality, he hadn’t done anything like that in a long while. Still, he was certain that would be the way they’d feel if he did, the way  _ Connor  _ would feel.

“I don’t buy that for a second,” Connor said, dragging his fingers through Hank’s long, smoke-colored hair. “Silver fox like you? I can’t imagine anyone would want anything but to stay forever. Maybe they’re only regretting that you’re making them leave in the morning.”

“Not exactly. Anyway, best not to take anyone home in the first place to avoid disappointing them when they realize who they’ve woken up to,” Hank told him, wondering why he was letting his self-deprecating thoughts escape his mouth instead of locking them tightly in his head and letting Connor compliment him before ultimately going home alone. “Come on, though. Let’s get you another drink. You’ve flattered me more than enough to earn it.”

“I don’t want another one,” Connor said, tugging at Hank’s shirt and pulling Hank forward until they were practically lying down in the booth of the bar. Hank couldn’t tear his eyes away from Connor, the way he was dressed, the way he looked at him, the way his lips pouted like so, the pleading look in his doe eyes … it didn’t help that the mesh crop top he was in revealed every freckle and mole dotting that pale skin, every mark that contrasted against his complexion.

He wanted Connor. He couldn’t deny that. Desperately, he wanted him, longed to trace each of those freckles with his goddamn teeth if Connor would let him. And Connor seemed, however misguided he was, to want to let him. Before he could remind Connor what a terrible idea it was again, and before they could get kicked out for getting too frisky in the booth they were occupying, Hank gave in and requested an Uber, still worried Connor might regain his senses once he sobered up (and also hoping that Connor would do exactly that, if only to ease his own mind that he wasn’t forcing himself on the poor boy).

As they waited on the curb for what the app said would be a Nissan Leaf — whatever the hell that was — Connor was still half-clinging to Hank, sliding a hand down the back of his jeans to cup his ass.

“You sure you want to go home with an ugly old bear like me?” Hank asked him. Connor simply giggled in response. “Oh, baby. You shouldn’t be doing this,” Hank said. “How about I ask the driver to send you home? I can get another car.” Hank didn’t even mind paying for both rides, so long as Connor got home safely.

“I’m not as drunk as you think I am, Mr. Anderson,” Connor said, still clinging to Hank’s last name as he batted his eyelashes up at him.

“You’re not exactly sober,” Hank reminded him.

Connor stood on his toes to whisper into Hank’s ear. “I will be by the time we get to your place.” He flicked his tongue against Hank’s earlobe, effectively melting the last of his resolve to say no before pulling back and looking at him with those big doe eyes. “Pretty please?”

“Fuck,” Hank answered, and the moment the Uber arrived, he was pouring the kid into the backseat, following closely behind. He was careful about his PDA, not wanting to upset the Uber driver or get a bad passenger rating, but that was the only thing holding him back from dragging Connor into his lap right then and there.

It would have been easier if Connor weren't desperately trying to get into his lap on the way home either, much to the detriment of his willpower. He could picture it, Connor grinding on him, one leg on either side of him as he lapped at the bare skin Connor had exposed, which in fairness, was a  _ lot. _ That wasn't safe or polite, though. “Save it for when we get there, baby,” Hank pleaded. If Connor pushed the issue, he'd no longer have any ability to hold back.

Hank took Connor's hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb as he entwined their fingers. Connor seemed satisfied, even soothed, by their contact, however minimal it was. As soon as they got near enough to Hank's place, Hank leaned over once more.

Considering for a moment, Hank offered one last time, “if you want, I can have him drive you on home.

“Like hell you will,” Connor snorted. “You really think this is such a bad idea that you're going to keep trying to stop me? I'm not going to change my mind.” Then he furrowed his brows, considering. “It's like you don't even want me!” He gestured in mock offense, but Hank could see the real hurt in his eyes.

“On the contrary,” Hank sighed. “I just don't get why  _ you  _ would want  _ me _ .” But Hank's desire seemed to fuel them and as the car approached Hank's house, with Hank's small mutter of “It's not much to look at, but this is it,” Connor was practically climbing over his lap out of the car. They barely made it inside the door before Connor took control, pushing Hank against it the second it was closed and unbuttoning Hank's button-down with whatever loud print seemed appropriate for the club.

“You sure don't waste time, do you?” Hank asked him.

“Not when I know what I want,” Connor answered, lips still close to Hank's skin. He tugged at Hank's shirt, maneuvering him closer for a kiss, which Connor deepened to nibble at his lips.

“What do you want?” Hank asked, and Connor answered him by sliding his hand down the front of Hank’s pants and caressing him through his boxers. Hank's full-body shudder seemed to be the response Connor wanted, because the sound of his giggle was electrifying.

“You really don’t know?”

“Couch?” Hank offered, nodding his head toward the saggy piece of furniture there.

“Show me to your bedroom?” Connor asked instead, grazing his fingertips along Hank’s cheek.

Hank wanted to, but the kid was stronger than he looked and had him pressed to the door still. Letting them stay there for a moment, Hank’s hands found Connor’s waist and slipped under his crop top. Hank wasn’t sure if he should take it off here or not. Plenty of Connor’s skin was visible, touchable with it on, and anyway, Connor wasn’t exactly breaking contact to give him time to slip it over his head anyway. “Bedroom?” Hank asked finally. Connor had suggested it without letting him up long enough to get there.

“Bedroom,” Connor sighed into his mouth.

“Con, sweetheart, you gotta let go of me long enough to let me take you there,” Hank reminded him.

Connor pulled back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Okay,” but without thinking much, he leaned in and kissed Hank again.

“Impatient little fucker, aren’t you?” Hank asked, and Connor nodded in response.

“I’ve been waiting all night,” Connor whined. “I don’t want to wait more.”

“Yeah, but my back won’t hold up long enough to fuck me against this door, so if that’s what you’re after …”

“Alright, alright,” Connor stepped back, lifting his hands in mock surrender. Hank started toward the bedroom before either of them could stop themselves halfway, with Connor lagging behind and keeping Hank’s hand ensnared with his own. Once in the bedroom, Hank stopped holding back. Connor was here, Connor  _ wanted  _ to be here, and he wasn’t going to protest.

Connor didn’t need an invitation to lay down on the bed, tugging Hank onto him so solidly that Hank worried he’d squash the poor kid. He hadn’t done anything like this in a long time, if he was being honest, but Connor’s lips on his felt so right, and the straying of Connor's hands on his body? Divine. Connor’s fingers teased Hank's chest hair, his open shirt giving the access. “You keep doing that and I won’t be able to resist you,” Hank told him.

“That’s the goal,” Connor muttered, giving Hank’s nipple a small squeeze before rubbing at it gently.

“You sure you want to do this?” Hank whispered softly, as if trying to give Connor one last out before, and Connor scowled at him. Truly, he scowled, and Hank couldn’t decide if he was amused or annoyed.

“Hank, if you don’t want to sleep with me, just say so,” Connor huffed, pushing at Hank’s chest gently.

“Of course I want to sleep with you,” Hank answered, kissing the side of Connor’s lips in apology. “You’re an angel. And I’m a mess,” he sighed. Connor wasn’t having that kind of talk, though, instead hooking a leg around Connor’s waist.

“Making a mess of me, maybe,” Connor quipped, rocking his hips upward. His erection was obvious in his shorts, and Hank was done protesting and trying to convince Connor he was making a mistake. No amount of self-loathing was making him give this up now, not when it was obvious how badly Connor wanted him. Now, he was kissing down Connor’s body, stopping at every freckle he found to flick his tongue over it, wiggling the tip between the mesh fabric of Connor’s top, working his way to the hem that fell a few inches above his belly button. Hank gently teased his top teeth over a freckle near Connor’s hips as he stole a glance up.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked quietly, running his fingers through Hank’s hair.

“It’s just … your freckles,” Hank breathed, kissing the next one.

“Oh, you’re going to really love one of them, then,” Connor chuckled, but then Hank breathed cool air on a place he’d just slid his tongue, and the cool chill of air on Connor’s skin was overwhelming. He was practically writhing under Hank’s touch, and as Hank hesitated, fingers on the waistband of Connor’s shorts, Connor guided his head with the hand tangled in his hair. It was evident he wanted this.

Hank kissed his cock through the fabric that clung to his skin, nuzzling at his erection and sliding one hand up the side of it. Connor’s whimpers were music to his ears as he rolled the waistband down just enough to reveal the tip of Connor’s cock. He glided his tongue along the tip, trying to look up at Connor, and the way Connor took Hank’s hair in his hands, held it back from his eyes, made it so much easier. Connor bit his cherry lips, ones that Hank had kissed and sucked until they were red somewhere between meeting him in the club and making it to the bedroom.

As Hank focused his attention just on the tip for a moment or two, Connor whined and pleaded, “please, shit, Hank, yeah,” in little staccato sounds from his lips, monosyllabic as if he couldn’t bring himself to form coherent thoughts. That was how Hank wanted him, needy and quiet just before he took him all the way. Hank was sure he’d be louder eventually, especially considering that Hank hadn’t been a disappointment to Connor physically yet, and Connor hadn’t even seen his best attribute, as far as Hank figured.

“You like that?” Hank moved off of his cock just long enough to ask, but didn’t wait for an answer before sliding his shorts off the rest of the way and wrapping his mouth around Connor’s cock, taking him deep. Hank was old enough to be well-practiced, and Connor’s yelp of surprise indicated his appreciation for Hank’s skill there.

“Yeah, I like that,” Connor moaned.

It took Hank a second to notice the other freckle, the one right there on Connor’s dick. It was impossible not to give it extra attention, to flick at it with his tongue, to kiss it as he stroked Connor, to suck at the skin there before taking Connor deep in his mouth. Eventually, he focused on what he should, but the freckle stayed in his mind, temptation he couldn’t ignore. As Connor arched his back off of the bed, Hank rested his hands under Connor’s back, holding him tight and lifting Connor’s hips to take him deeper. Connor was coming unglued by the second. “Hank, fuck me,” he pleaded.

“You want that?” Hank asked him, eyes wide. In all honesty, Hank wouldn’t have minded getting Connor in his bed and giving him what he wanted, no thought of reciprocation or having his needs fulfilled at all in mind. That wasn’t his goal here. It was to make sure Connor had a good time. If Connor was asking for more, that was a bonus. He didn’t feel like he had the looks for sleeping with a guy like Connor, figured he was good for giving head and not much else. Even still, he figured Connor would probably want to roll over and feel him without seeing him, but as he reached in his side table for condoms he hoped weren’t expired, and as he worked Connor open with lube-coated fingers, Connor hooked a heel around Hank’s ass, pulling Hank down to kiss him.

“Take me just like this? Please?” By  _ like this,  _ Connor meant Hank standing beside the bed, facing Connor, tugging him onto his cock by the shoulders, letting Connor rest a leg on Hank’s shoulder or planting a foot on his chest as he fucked into him.

The small yelps and whimpers from Connor, staccato cries of pleasure, were making it hard for Hank to last. Thankfully, all of the work Hank did before, sucking him off, and the way he was angling Connor’s hips perfectly so he hit his prostate every time, was working for Connor. With a few quick, sharp thrusts, Connor didn’t even need to touch himself to release all over his stomach, hands twisted in the blankets above his head. “Fuck, Hank,  _ yes!”  _ he cried out, enough to make Hank follow right after. Without pulling out, he leaned down and licked a streak of cum from Connor’s collarbone, then laid down on him, nuzzling at his neck.

Neither of them had gotten fully undressed, Hank realized after, as he tucked Connor into his bed, curling his body around him. Connor still had on his mesh top, but his shorts were somewhere on the floor. Hank’s pants were discarded, but his open shirt left him pressing his exposed chest to Connor’s back, running his fingertips over the ghosts of freckles he was certain he knew the locations of by memory already.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to magicbubblepipe for giving this a read-over and making sure it didn't suck.


End file.
